


You Keep Passing Me By [Like a Ship in the Night]

by ainewrites



Series: Ships in the Night [1]
Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, i love writing this dorks falling in love, it's seriously my favorite thing, kind of more prose-y than the other stuff i've posted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 21:06:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10839450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ainewrites/pseuds/ainewrites
Summary: If Jillian is the thunder and lightening and roaring, then Erin is the rain after the storm, warm and familiar and soothing. They go together, and you'll never have one without the other.-Erin Gilbert and Jillian Holtzmann, ships in the night.





	You Keep Passing Me By [Like a Ship in the Night]

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [the rhythm (of the night)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10329818) by [holtzbabe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/holtzbabe/pseuds/holtzbabe). 



> I should be doing math homework but I did this instead.  
> Unedited and all that fun stuff, mostly because I'm too tired to actually go back over it.

She should go home. It’s late, late, late, the night pressing in on the windows like a physical being, darkness seeping into the corners. But it’s like there’s a hook behind her chest keeping her anchored in place, a chain trailing upstairs, connecting to the engineer, unseen, only heard.

Combat boots stomp and rock music blasts and the night creeps in, shadows pooling around, Erin cradled in the warm light of her lamp, and she tells herself she is staying because of work, and not because of Holtzmann.

Upstairs, Jillian is working and singing and dancing, untouchable in this long, long moment, and Erin lets herself _long_.

-

She is beautiful. She is soft and cute and small, dimples flashing and nose scrunching.

She is beautiful. She is wild blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes.

She is beautiful. She makes Erin’s chest ache with every smile, every wink, and she leans over Erin’s desk, mussing her papers, offering a hand. Music thuds in time with the beat of Erin’s heart.

She is beautiful. But Erin does not take her hand, feels as if her chest will explode with any contact.

She is beautiful. And she is gone, dancing away, careless and happy and perfect.

-

If Jillian is the thunder and lightning and roaring, then Erin is the rain after the storm, warm and familiar and soothing. They go together, and you’ll never find one without the other.

Jillian is unpredictable, a mad scientist with a brilliant gleam in her eyes. She’s an unstoppable force of nature, deadly and fierce and _wild_.

Erin is not. Erin is steady and dependable and practical. She’s predictable, extremely so, and she is cursed forever to be the one following in the wake of Jillian’s storm, watching, hoping, loving.

Jillian is the thunder and the lightning and roaring, and she pays no attention to the rain that follows after her.

-

She clutches the papers to her chest, the stretches stretching up in front of her. One step, two steps, three.

Jillian grins, spinning in a chair. Erin passes the equations, fingers brush, and skin sings under the contact.

Fingertips burn from the fire that is Jillian, who spins around again, an owl in orange goggles, boots on the desk.

Music thud, thud, thuds, and Erin’s heart beats, beats, beats.

Jillian’s eyes, holding hers, are so, so blue.

The moment stretches, pulls, snaps.

She goes downstairs. Darkness and night pulls at her, bringing her away.

-

Coat on a coatrack. The blinking redness of electric numbers, singing the later hours. Phones are silent, the computer hums a whirring lullaby.

She closes her eyes. Listens to the noise upstairs, loud as if it is daytime, and wonders how such a small person can be so _large_.

She goes to stay goodbye.

-

The bass settles in her bones, the lyrics echoing in her ears. Jillian dances, and when she holds out her hands, this time Erin takes them. She lets herself be spun in a circle, and she is aware of how close they are, almost nose-to-nose, almost chest-to-chest.

Jillian spins her away, and Erin knocks a shoulder into the wall, but the starburst of pain is nothing compared to the music that Jillian lights in her heart.

She watches as Jillian laughs, apologizes, _dances_. The night cannot come up here, where there is music and light and Jillian, who holds back the darkness with the largeness of her smile.

Erin’s feet sing to her, beg her to follow, but darkness creeps between them, coming up from the corners, and right now, Erin feels as if they are strangers, passing in the nighttime.

-

She pulls on her coat, a list in her mind. _Purse, gloves, pepper spray_.

Footsteps on the stairs, and there is Jillian, coat fluttering, boots stomping, music quiet.

_Walk me home._

The darkness outside the door sings a greeting, luring her home. Jillian repeats the melody, bright and shining.

It is one AM, and bed is in Erin’s thoughts but Jillian’s voice is in her ear, soft and pleading, and she knows the sounds of loneliness.

She takes Jillian with her.

-

Jillian takes her hand, and they run. She pulls her along street corners and through dark alleys, the firehouse vanishing behind them.

She doesn’t know how Jillian knows where she lives, but she finds herself on her apartment steps. She clutches her bag to her chest. Jillian smiles. She has places to go, things to do, because Erin knows that the city at night sings to her in a way that it doesn’t in the daytime.

She doesn’t let go of her hand. It is late and she is tired, and she needs to work the next morning, but there is Jillian in front of her and an empty apartment at her back.

 _Take me with you_.

-

She is beautiful. A halo of street lights and a crown of skyscrapers.

She is beautiful.

She is a storm with skin, she is a creature of the night and the stars and moon, and she takes Erin’s hand and pulls, and Erin follows after her.

Her heart is tethered, anchored to Jillian.

-

She dances. Music fills the alley from a nightclub, and she dances. Erin lets herself be pulled along, and suddenly, they are nose to nose, chest to chest.

Hearts beating, lungs heaving.

Erin feels the heat, and lets it curl and wind through her bloodstream.

Lips touch, soft and clumsy, teeth bump, awkward and jarring.

Hand on her waist on the small of her back. Hands wrapped around her neck and curling in blonde hair.

She is alight and alive and here, right now, always and forever.

 _Bring me along_.

-

The sun rises, chasing the darkness away to its corners once again, and they watch it set the horizon on fire. It is beautiful.

But she is beautiful, too, so beautiful it takes Erin’s breath away, because she is hers, now, their hearts beating in sync.

The sensations fill her up. Bare skin against clean sheets, cool breeze from the open window, Jillian against her, fingers entwined with hers, skin to skin, as close as possible.

The night before sets her on fire, like she is being touched by the rising sun, because it has been months of hoping and wanting and loving.

Jillian is the storm, thunder and lightning and roaring, and Erin is the rain after the storm, comforting and soothing. You can never find without the other.

They are forces of nature, unstoppable and unpredictable, and wildness beats a tempo in their hearts, and pulls them toward each other.

_Never let me go._

**Author's Note:**

> Edit:
> 
> So, Holtzbabe (AKA jillbert) just contacted me through Tumblr saying that a couple of people had noticed similarities between her 'fic and this one, and I just want to A) apologize, because now that I've gone back and looked at her's yes, this is indeniably inspired, and I just totally forgot I had read her 'fic when I was writing this one. I'm going to blame my "averaging five hours of sleep a night" brain, but, really, that's no excuse. So, yes, this work is inspired by The Rhythm (of the Night), and I'm so, so sorry I didn't acknowledge it as such sooner. And B), that her 'fic is amazing and incredible AND GO AND READ IT. 
> 
> As always, love from my corner of the internet.  
> -Aine (AKA ainewrites, AKA the person who mutates song lyrics so she can title her 'fics).


End file.
